


a sharp knife and a good memory

by ghoulboys



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, i hate adding sex tags smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulboys/pseuds/ghoulboys
Summary: “Eager to please, evidently.” He said, wiping the knife before dragging it back down Elliott’s chest. “Do you want me to touch you, Elliott?”“Yes,” Elliott shamelessly whines, brown eyes wide, pupils blown.“Good boy.”
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Revenant
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	a sharp knife and a good memory

Elliott wasn’t expecting alone time so soon, not after the events of the last game — they’d run various amounts of tests on him to ensure he wasn’t scrambled up from the death. It wasn’t uncommon for him to die entirely in the ring, but the clean headshot seemed to be a scare to the scientists and doctors alike. Thankfully reconstructing him was easy, and Elliott had left within a few hours of the game ending to see his fans and discuss the tragic events. It was almost exciting to lose like Revenant forced him to — all the questions revolves around him and the discussion him and Revenant had, if he held any harsh feelings towards the simulacrum now.

Elliott had simply laughed, briefly shaking his head before giving his answer of, “we all say things in the ring. At the end of the day, it’s all about how they’re really like behind closed doors. And trust me, Revenant is... he’s a — a, p - pe, pea — peach! That’s the word,”

With no comment on his stumble, the interviewers moved on to the next round of questions. Mirage had returned home, with a quick greeting from his roommate (and he ignores her quips of how he must know Revenant better than her,) before heading to his bedroom.

To be alone, finally, is like heaven. Elliott’s shoulders fell from where it felt like they were at his jaw, finally relaxing for the first time the entire day. Ache began to settle in as he came down from his practical adrenaline rush, and he made his way for his bed. Sinking into the plush mattress got a soft and thankful moan past his lips, muffled until he rolled over and onto his back, viewing the ceiling.

He laid in silence, allowing his mind to wander as he went over the events of the day. It doesn’t take long before he thinks about the interview that had taken place, the questions about Revenant and how he’d treated Elliott in the ring. It gets him to shudder, remembering how tight and painful Revenant’s grip on his jaw had been.

It’s shameful, in a way. Mirage sighs, and in the background, he can hear Rampart briefly calling out her departure before the closing of a door rings throughout the house.

Mirage pauses, still on his bed, before his eyes wander to his closed bedroom door. “Really?” He asks himself, voice barely a hushed whisper, “now?”

It takes him a second to answer — “it’s not my fault it was hot.”

Elliott groans, raising his hands to drag down his face, and stops just to keep them covering his face. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to distract his mind from the way Revenant had grabbed him, the way he’d kicked him onto the ground, the way he said his name — “Elliott.”

It gets him to jump, sounding so real, sitting up suddenly to check and make sure Revenant hadn’t broken in. To his surprise, and relief, the room is entirely empty. Elliott has to sit and take a breather before shaking his head, “you’re hearing things, idiot.”

But it sounded real. With a brief pause, Elliott closes his eyes and thinks about the way Revenant had said his name.

“Elliott,”

There it is again. His breath hitches, as if he’d never heard Revenant say his name like that before — it was common, but the way he’d said in the arena that day. Like he was being bad, being scolded. Not that Elliott was into that whole thing.

Or was he?

He thinks, biting his lip. “You really thought you could get away with what you had done in the ring, Elliott? You know I’m not that forgiving,”

And if Revenant were really there, maybe Mirage would’ve replied with something like, “hey, hey, I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s not my fault you were getting personal in front of fans!”

Revenant would grab his jaw, thumb dipping to his lips, shutting Elliott up almost immediately. And his thumb would curl, ever so slightly, to part the tricksters lips and get a look at the submissive man beneath him.

“That’s better,” he tsked, hand slowly moving down to wrap around Elliott’s neck. “Permission, or you don’t speak. Do you understand?”

“What—“

“Do you understand?” Revenant repeats, and his hand suddenly tightens. Elliott gasps, before nodding feverishly, and the grip on his throat relaxed. “Good boy.”

It’s almost degrading, even as a praise — with the right tone of voice, even with Revenant’s being somewhat stoic and difficult, it almost sounds as if he’s teasing the man. Elliott shudders nonetheless, shamelessly, as he feels Revenant’s hand loosen and begin to trail down to his chest.

“Listen to me very carefully, Elliott. This is going to be your punishment,” he began, “if you don’t follow through, do you want to know what will happen?”

Elliott opens his eyes, just to imagine Revenant on top of him, holding a knife. His breathing shakes and all he can think of is how fucked the entire imagined scenario is, and how wrong he is for getting off on it.

He nods.

“I think you already know,” Revenant nearly cooed, the knife beginning to slide up Mirage’s clothed chest, the tip barely grazing the fabric. It pauses at his neck before Revenant twists his wrist to hold the blade against his throat. “I demonstrated how fragile and weak you skinbag’s really are. Do you remember Renee calling for help, Elliott?”

He nods, slower this time, with the knife pressed to his throat still.

“And what did you do? Speak.”

“I was focused on fighting off Caustic, there’s nothing I could have done to help her since you surprise—“

“Not anymore than necessary,” Revenant hisses, suddenly, with the tension of the knife against his throat. Elliott stops speaking, brown eyes wide, watching, fingers twitching at his side.

“You were useless as your teammate died by her own kunai, Elliott. I dragged it across her neck and counted the seconds until she bled to death. Did you hear how long it took, Elliott? You can say it.”

“You counted twenty seven seconds,” Elliott said, barely above a whisper.

“Good boy.” Revenant says, pulling back the knife slightly, before dipping it back down to tap on his shirt. “Get the layers off.”

Elliott strips himself almost immediately, as if his clothes were dangerous and he had to get them off within merely seconds — he fumbled with his buttons and practically rips at his shirt to throw it aside, until he’s naked on the bed, and Revenant is standing at the very edge of it.

“What a sight,” he said, with the tilt of his head. “Tell me. How desperate are you for me, really?”

Elliott, sitting up on the bed, can feel the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. “Um, I don’t — I don’t know, I guess—“

Revenant slowly rounds the bed as Elliott fumbles with his words, setting the knife down on Elliott’s bedside table. It takes him a second before he began to crawl onto the bed, hand reaching up to set on Elliott’s chest and push him down, flat onto the bed. He sets a leg on either side of his partner and admires the view on top of him, only taking his eyes away to grab the knife from the bedside table again. He uses it to tilt Elliott’s head up, right beneath his chin.

“Elliott,” he warns, the tip of the knife slowly draws back, pressure not lifting, and he can feel a thin cut being made. “Say it.”

“I want you,” Elliott finally blurts, "please," the sudden opening of his jaw pressing down against the knife. He gasps from the sharp, stinging pain that comes from it, and Revenant jerks the knife back before chuckling, low and rumbling.

“Eager to please, evidently.” He said, wiping the knife before dragging it back down Elliott’s chest. “Do you want me to touch you, Elliott?”

“Yes,” Elliott shamelessly whines, brown eyes wide, pupils blown.

“Good boy.” Revenant replies, shifting back further to rest himself on Elliott's legs. He examines the tan body of Elliott beneath him, his cock flush against his stomach. It jumps with each stroke of the knife against his chest, almost ticklish with the lack of pressure Revenant puts on it; he arches his back in attempt to get closer, press into the knife. A low and threatening rumbling noise rises in Revenant's throat, mechanics stirring with the noise, mimicking another laugh. "You're so desperate, aren't you? Is this what I truly do to you?"

"You don't even know," Elliott replies, and Revenant leans forward, until his mouthpiece is near his ears.

"Tell me," he replies, voice lowered, and Elliott's throat hitches in his chest.

He knows it's imaginary.

Every piece of it is; from the mocking laughter, the knife tracing scars along his chest, the heat of Revenant sitting on top of him. Each piece of contact, every word whispered, just drags him deeper into the fantasy. Elliott is sure he'd never leave, if he were able, laying with his eyes closed, his nail tracing his chest to mimic the feeling of a sharp knife, and other hand resting on his thigh. Elliott obliges with himself, moving further. Revenant's free hand slowly begins to move from his side down to his hip, squeezing surprisingly gentle despite the sharp nails.

"Everything you do," he says, barely above a whisper, "drives me insane. The way you tease me. The way you kick me around in the ring, or the way you hurt me when we're inside it. How surprisingly gentle you can be. The way you look at me,"

"Shut up." Revenant cuts him off, surprising, and Elliott's mouth draws itself into a thin line of concern, "That's enough." He pauses, a hand at the base of Elliott's member now, but doesn't yet wrap his fingers around it. It hovers, teasingly so, and for a few brief moments the only sound in the room is Elliott's heavy breathing. "We can have some prettier noises coming out of your mouth," Revenant finally concludes.

Elliott can't help it when he nods, eyes closing to bask in the imaginary scenario occurring, and doesn't verbally reply to Revenant this time.

Revenant seems to appreciate this, though it's always hard to tell with the simulacrum. He can't see the others expression, but even if he did, he knew it'd be the same as it usually was - stoic and quiet, judging him, but not saying much. "Good boy, Elliott. You do like being submissive," The simulacrum says, and the knife slowly slides up to stroke over the scars on Mirage's own face. He traces the old and healed wounds, the tip barely grazing against Elliott's fair skin. It gets him to shudder, sensitive and needy.

It only heightens when Revenant's fingers begin to move, though Elliott's own acting as his imagination, until removing itself from around him entirely and raising to his mouth. "Spit," Revenant orders, and Mirage doesn't waste time in getting a mouthful of saliva onto Revenant's palm. The simulacrum grunts, reaching down barely a moment later to rest his hand at Mirage's hip. His fingers crawl, dramatic, before curling around himself at the base of his member. Slowly but surely, he loosens his grip before slowly sliding his hand up, using the saliva from Mirage's mouth to begin stroking him properly.

Elliott has to hold back from pressing into the attention so fast, back arching off the mattress beneath him, lips falling open. Revenant's knife draws back to avoid unnecessary blood shed, instead slowly drawing itself down to hold his bottom lip open with the knife. "There we go. So pretty when that mouth of yours isn't running off."

Revenant's voice did something to Elliott, something he was never able to put his finger on -- the rumbling in the simulacrum's chest, the light whir of mechanics with each word spoken, the underlying threat of each sentence. It always got him to squirm, even if Elliott always tried to hide his reactions. He'd shuffle his feet, avoid eye contact, sputter out soft complaints and ask not to be eaten. It was all another reason for Revenant to end the conversation early, at least before the two got closer.

Now Revenant knew, understood, what his voice did to Elliott. The low stirring in his stomach, the twisting of raw heat and tugging of primal instincts. It made him want to latch onto the simulacrum and never let go, desperate for attention, desperate for both praises and degradation from them.

"Rev," Elliott pants, the rise and fall of his chest beginning to increase in speed as the stroking of Revenant's hand picks into a focused pace. Revenant pauses with each entire stroke, thumb rubbing and dipping over his tip, while the knife holds place on his lip. Elliott speaking forces the knife to move, sliding against soft skin and slicing easily. The simulacrum barely pulls back to wipe and smear metallic, stinging liquid over his mouth and chin.

Revenant tsks. "You shouldn't have done that," He says, moving the knife to wipe it off, a quick and swift movement before the tip of the knife presses against his temple. "It's barely been ten minutes, Elliott. You're getting yourself riled up for nothing. Save the foreplay,"

Elliott would shake his head if he could, but he's too desperate, too aware of the knife on his temple. He's sensitive, stomach twisting, heat rising to his chest. He wants to whine, wants to beg for Revenant to do more than just jerk him off. But he knows that's way out of reach, that it's physically impossible for Revenant at the moment, even if he wants to feel the curling of sharp fingers inside him; he wants to feel the sensitive pain, possibly bleed just from his nails, cry from the stretch and desperation.

It's more than he's used to, the sexual figment of his imagination riling him up. In some way, it physically hurts, but it's still nice. It's still euphoric, even if he hasn't reached his peak. The idea and imagery of Revenant, fingers wrapped around him, jerking him off and basking in each response Elliott gives.

Beauty.

He moans in surprise when there's the loose twist of Revenant's hand, and his speed picking up drastically, almost frantic movements to contrast the slow and teasing ones earlier. Almost sloppy in a way, as if trying to speed up the process. The sharp steel of the knife against his temple begins to drag down the side of his head to his neck. It stays on the side of his body, as if tracing his outline, gentle and grounding in comparison to the stroke of Revenant's other hand.

"Revenant," he says, barely below a whisper, shaky and fragile.

He can't see the simulacrum, but some part of him knows that the murderbot basks in it.

"Again." He orders, leaning in, face inches away from Elliott's. "Say it again."

"Revenant," Mirage repeats, louder this time, before it begins to slip from his lips like a religious mantra. He repeats the name, desperate and begging for more. Revenant twists his hand, rubs his thumb against his tip. "Oh god, Revenant, Revenant..."

He gets lost somewhere in it, unaware of the knife that pulls back and replaces with a steady hand. His hand moves to cup the front of his face, thumb dipping to drag his lip down before his index and pointer finger both slide onto Elliott's tongue. It doesn't need an order, Elliott's tongue beginning to drape over his fingers with saliva. He keeps it like that before Revenant removes his fingers from his mouth, his hands sliding down, grabbing his hip, and Elliott briefly lifts his ass off the bed to stretch his arm. His hand slides before a finger presses against him, wet and warm from the heat of Elliott's mouth.

"Please," He whines, and Revenant doesn't waste time in pressing two fingers in. His fingers curl almost immediately, knuckles pressing in, and his breath hitches. "Oh fuck."

Revenant rumbles with laughter, fingers slowly scissoring to stretch the man. "You've always been so vocal, trying to be so smart in the presence of other legends. Yet you fall apart beneath me. How quaint."

Elliott doesn't reply, basking in the feeling that he'd been begging for earlier. The two fingers begin to pump in and out of him, slow and teasing, while the hand on his cock stays quick and sloppy. It's almost overwhelming, and he's starting to get closer every second, with each curl of Revenant's fingers and thumb stroking over his tip.

"Revenant," Elliott says, "please don't stop. Please don't," Revenant doesn't reply, but thank god he doesn't stop, fingers curling until it gets Mirage to jump in surprise. 

"Oh!" He exclaims, with a hitch of his breath, body briefly jerking. "Oh fuck, Revenant, right, right, right there," He stammers, and Revenant focuses. The consistent jerk of fingers against his prostate and hand on his cock is driving Elliott to the edge, begging and desperate.

The room is quiet except for the wet sounds of Revenant's hands and Elliott's begging, shouting and crying out to an empty room, both hands on himself, yet imagining another -- or so he assumed, thought as much. 

When he's finally driven over the edge, it's too much for him, white and desperate spurts beginning to stain his stomach and chest. He gasps and shudders, desperate moans of relief beginning to fall from his lips. He chants Revenant's name, begs for him to keep going, until he has nothing left in him. His toes curl and his legs shake, almost violently. It's another minute before he finally comes down, tension unravelling from his body, like tight bandages being unraveled. A glorious release, allowing him to relax.

"Oh god," he pants, hands falling to his side. "That was... that was... wow."

"Wow," repeats from Revenant, "always so articulate, Witt."

Elliott's eyes fly open.

**Author's Note:**

> ALRIGHT SO.  
> this started off as a sexual fantasty.  
> halfway thru i was like  
> damn this shit boring  
> so what if revenant actually came in like halfway thru?  
> i'm gonna add a dubious consent note because i know some ppl are gonna be like "omg >:( he didnt actually know it was revenant"  
> yes he did  
> he was in denial either way  
> elliott witt is horny for revenant  
> its up to you, the reader, to decide whether or not revenant was physically there.  
> that's why i left it on a pretty much cliffhanger  
> also dedicated to my boyfriend because he really wanted this  
> and im tired  
> i have work tmrw, so im going to bed  
> i hope you like it  
> leave comments or kudos  
> idk  
> goodnight


End file.
